A Gem

IF a pilgrim has been shadowed

By a tree that I have nursed;

If a cup of clear, cold water

I have raised to lips athirst;

If I've planted one sweet flower

By an else too barren way;

If I've whispered in the midnight

One sweet word of day;

If in one poor, bleeding bosom,

I a woe-swept chord have stilled;

If a dark and restless spirit

I with hope of Heaven have filled;

If I've made for life's hard battle

One faint heart grow warm and strong

Then, my God! I thank thee bless thee,

For the precious gift of song.